


So I built you a house from a broken home.

by Heyashes



Series: The Brave Ones Verse [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time (as a couple), Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Newt is a good boyfriend, Non-Graphic Smut, Sequel, Slight bit of angst, Thomas is emotionally hurting quite a bit, Thomas used to be a hooker, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heyashes/pseuds/Heyashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt can't exactly tell if things are getting better for Thomas. But if there's something Newt's really good at, it is picking up the pieces and paste them back together into some wonderful shape.</p><p>Or at least he can try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So I built you a house from a broken home.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a sequel to "See, the life I have can make a good man turn bad". It can be read as a stand alone fic but I quite highly recommend you give the other one a shot so you can get the full picture.  
> I've decided to make this a proper verse, so let me know if you wanna read more of this (suggestions/prompts will be appreciated!) or if I should stop at two pieces.
> 
> That being said, I really hope you enjoy this even half as much as I enjoyed writing it. Take care x

Newt had never been one to spend most of his day out, oh no.  
From the moment he left his flat every morning for class there was nothing he craved more than getting back home and relax.

it wasn't that he didn't like being outside, he just didn't like to be outside for _too long_.  
Especially now.

 

The moment Newt kicked the door shut behind him and was welcomed from the sounds of the tv in the living room and the mess that followed Thomas wherever he went, he could see why he'd been waiting for the moment to go home all day long. Walking to the other room he found the other boy sleeping on the couch, his head hanging from the arm of the sofa and his mouth wide open as he snored softly. Feeling warmth and fondness twist his guts, Newt moved to carefully place a cushion behind Thomas' neck, not failing to run his bony fingers through a certain mop of chocolate hair before heading to the kitchen to make some tea.

It had been four months, two since he'd finally convinced Thomas to move in with him after Brenda had found herself some really nice guy willing to share his dorm room on campus with her. Four months since that night he picked him up from the street, drove him to his place and kissed him after hearing how he ended up working the streets. He still remember the scared look on Thomas' face when they parted and he told him he thought he  was beautiful, no matter how much he loathed himself. The way his hands trembled, how he was biting his bottom lip so hard it seemed like he was feeling the urge to taste the blood on his tongue. How he stared into space for two whole minutes after that.

How he asked Newt to say it again.

Like he couldn't believe someone could think that about someone like him.  
And Newt said it again. And again and again and again.   
And he hadn't stopped yet, not even now that they saw each other every single day.

They kissed a lot, that night. They kissed a lot and when the sun rose Newt's lips were bruised and Thomas' eyes were puffy with exhaustion and something that vaguely resembled happiness. They fell asleep on the kitchen floor and Newt drove them to their French class the next afternoon.

 

They didn't exactly take it slow after that, not at all. Thomas seemed to have found in Newt some sort of anchor, someone to help him keep his mind off the edge. Newt, on the other hand, after two years of shamelessly crushing on Thomas, was more than happy with that.   
Two days after their first encounter they sat down in the coffee shop near their college, Newt's laptop and a billion newspapers in hand, and busied themselves finding Thomas a new job. A proper one.  
So while Newt spent his free periods working in the college library so that he didn't completely depend on his parents to pay the rent, Thomas spent his free time stacking CDs and vynils at the local records shop so that he didn't completely depend on Newt to pay the rent.  
It all quite felt like some kind of balance.

 

What Newt hated about getting lost in his own head was that he never heard Thomas come until he was right behind him and gave him a bloody heart attack.  
Today was not exception.  
Blame it on Thomas' way of soundlessly pad around the flat, blame it on Newt being distract half of the time and still not completely used to share his place with someone else, but the blonde found himself jumping and screeching when a cold hand slipped under his sweater and pressed to his back.  
(It was weird how Thomas' hands always were cold as ice, almost as he couldn't quite shake the cold of the nights spent on the streets off his bones.)

"Bloody fucking hell, Thomas!" Newt screeched trying to get out of the other boy's grasp.  
That had the dark haired boy laughing, tho, with his head thrown back and his shoulder shaking with laughter and Newt couldn't really argue with that: Thomas rarely smiled, let alone laughed, so every chuckled he managed to get out of him felt like a small victory.   
"I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry," Thomas grinned. "I didn't mean to scare you."  
"But you did!" Newt retorted, clutching the fabric of his sweater in correspondence of his heart.  
Thomas leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Newt's temple, as to apologise. Newt knew he didn't really mean it, the little bastard. "How was class?"  
Routine. Something that was slowly creeping its way into their lives and that gave Newt a sense of relief he still couldn't quite place.  
"What do you expect class to be? Just boring as it sounds," He hummed handing his boyfriend -he still had to wrap his head about the term- a cup of tea and walking back to the living room to sit on the couch with Thomas hot on his heels.

 

Thomas didn't exactly try to make conversation most of the time and neither did Newt. They would spend their afternoon in comfortable silence, sitting on the couch pressed from shoulder to toe against one another and just enjoying each other's company.  
It was just simple as that: sometimes they would talk, sometimes they wouldn't. Sometimes they would kiss, sometimes they would just hold hands, and both of them were good with that.

Apparently today they were going to talk.

"Newt?" Thomas called after a while, chin pressed againt the brim of his mug.  
"Hm?"   
"Are we ever going to... you know. Do it?"  
Minor heart attack for Newt. "Do it?"  
"Yeah. You know what I mean,"  
A few beats of silence. "Do you want to do it?"  
Hesitation. "I do."

Sex had never really been an option during the past months. It didn't even cross Newt's mind to try and push the bundaries, to even touch Thomas in a way that could vaguely recall the act of fucking. Because Thomas was broken, shattered into so many pieces, each of them so tiny that it would've been impossible to tell where each splinter of him belonged, and when thing are broken, you've got to be careful.  
And now here he was, asking for it like nothing had happened, pretending he didn't know Newt had noticed the slight shake in his voice.

"I want to do it now,"  
Newt turned around to look at him. "Now?"  
It wasn't like he felt insecure: he was scared to death. What if he wasn't good enough? What if he fucked up? But Thomas' eyes were almost pleading, and who was he to deny that boy anything?  
"Now," Thomas nodded, swallowed thickly. "Please?"

Newt didn't answer. He took Thomas' hand instead and silently guided him to the bedroom that once used to be his and now was  _theirs_.  
(God only knows how long it took Newt to convince Thomas that he should in no way sleep on the couch instead.)  
He let Thomas sit on the edge of the bed first, then sat down in front of him, close enough that he couldn't really make out his eye lashes.  
"We don't have to do this, you know? I mean, you don't have to feel like you  _have to_ because you're my... boyfriend."  
Thomas' reply came dressed as a kiss.   
A kiss that became deeper and deeper as they laid down on their sides, legs tangling and cold hands running up and down warm sides.  
Thomas' hands were first to tug at the hem of Newt's sweater, and the blonde let him peel it off: he figured they could always stop any minute if things didn't go as planned.   
He carefully tugged Thomas' hoodie up until it slid off his arms and took his time stroking miles and miles of milky sin.

Many of the marks on Thomas' body hadn't faded properly yet, as a memento of what the dark times used to be like. He once asked Thomas if he hated to see them, if they reminded him of what life used to be. Thomas told him that they did remind him about how shitty his life used to be, but the fact that they were fading also reminded him that life was worth to be lived again.  
Newt made a point of kissing every yellowish bruise, every fading scar on the brunette's chest: Thomas really was beautiful, he only needed to be reminded about it every now and then. And in all honesty, it was Newt's favourite thing to do.  
He wondered when had it beeen last time someone had taken care of Thomas' body like he was now. Last time someone touched him to make sure  _he_ was the one feeling good.  
He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.  
  
  


Only a couple of minutes in Newt could hear Thoma's breaths speed up a bit, and he took it at his cue to slowly pull Thomas' sweats down and let him do the same to his jeans.  
"If there's anything wrong you just stop me, yeah?" He whispered once that he was back on eye level with the other, gently running his fingers up and down the smooth skin of his cheek.  
Thomas gave him a tight nod, still managing to not feel tense under Newt's body as memories formed a tight knot in the back of his throat. "Just... go for it. Foreplay can wait for another time."   
Newt found himself furrowing: there was no way he was letting their first time be something like that, quick and projected just to tik another voice in their 'to do list' as a couple.  
"What do you say we take it slow instead?" He offered in his softest voice, laying on his side next to Thomas who was lying on his back and gently running his hand up and down the other's thigh.   
When his hand got too close to Thomas' crotch on accident Newt made the decision that they weren't going to have sex that night.  
"Newt, I-"  
"Shhh," Newt gently shushed him by pressing his idex finger to the other's lips. "Let's just think about you for once, yeah?"  
  


Thomas didn't answer to that, but Newt knew he found the perspective more than appealing. He slowly moved his hand under Thomas' boxer briefs and felt him go rigid under his touch, frozen by god knows what kind of horrible memories.   
Newt kept his hand still, barely touching Thomas' cock as he pressed his lips to the other's ear.  
"It's ok," He whispered running his fingers over the espanse of skin of the other's pelvis. "You're ok. I won't hurt you," He murmured, and kept to whisper quiet nonsenses to the other boy's ear until he felt him relax a bit against his chest. "I could never hurt you," He continued carefully wrapping his fingers around Thomas' dick and giving an experimental stroke. "Never ever, Tommy. Not even in a million years,"  
  


The gentle approach seemed to work, and Thomas progressively let go as Newt touched him and never stopped telling him how amazing he was.  
"You're so strong, Tommy," Newt whispered just as Thomas let out a small whimper, hiding his face against the other's neck as if he was ashamed of feeling pleasure when it came to something sex related. That was just how scarred Thomas was. "So strong and brave and beautiful,"   
Thomas clung to Newt's shoulder, gasping for air.

"I love you so much."  
  


And that was all it took to kick Thomas off the edge, making him fall straight into an orgasm that let him whimpering and calling Newt's name over and over again againt the warm skin of his boyfriend's neck, feeling so blissed out that he felt like he was about to fall apart.  
Newt was there to hold him together. Tight, against his chest, making him feel whole. Loved.  
  


None of them spoke for a long time: there was no need to.  
And Newt found himself thinking.  
And Thomas found himself not wanting to cry while being basically nakeed agaist someone after a long time.

And maybe that was enough. Maybe it wasn't everyhing they needed, maybe it was way far from it.  
But for the moment it was enough.  
And Thomas had spent way too many time in his life getting by with absolutely less than enough to not be satisfied.  
And Newt had never been one to whine, after all.


End file.
